How I Quit Smoking - If I Really Did

OTHER VIEWS - MY WORD

April 19, 1998|By Helen Parramore

On Aug. 27, 1967, at 3:30 in the afternoon, with my five kids in the station wagon on the way to the pound to pick out a puppy in Gainesville, I quit smoking.

The only other date I remember with certainty is 1066, when the Battle of Hastings occurred. That's because my high-school history teacher had a raging fit in class one day, quite as memorable as the battle itself, when everyone missed the question on a test. In my mind, quitting smoking is associated with the Battle of Hastings.

In 1967, everybody smoked. Nobody talked about quitting. I don't know why I thought I should. Nobody encouraged me. I had quit six or seven times before this memorable date, but that was the last time I quit.

To do it, I had to figure out how to live in a world of smokers.

How could I take a coffee break without a cigarette?

How could I keep others from blowing smoke in my face?

Would I never be able to have a drink or socialize with friends?

After dinner in the evening or when chatting on the phone, what could I do instead of smoking?

I chose Life Savers. I had to grope to find the roll in my purse, then unravel the wrapper, offer one to a friend, pry one loose and pop it into my mouth. I had to suck, then wrap up the rest and put the roll away. The sugar gave me a little lift and reward - the same motions and effects of smoking.

I learned that my craving was as predictable as the clock. Every 20 minutes, when I wanted to smoke, I popped a Life Saver and promised myself to wait 10 minutes. Ten minutes later, I had forgotten about it and was content until the craving hit again. So, actually, I quit smoking forever in 10-minute intervals.

In the following weeks, the time between cravings gradually increased. Every time I waited, I gained a few seconds. Within three months, cravings were down to about four times a day - a manageable problem.

I began bicycling and swimming because I found that physical exercise eased my cravings. Years later, I read that exercise gets rid of the sticky, brown gunk that coats the lungs of smokers and helps oxygenate our body and brains. Exercise is a natural ``upper.'' Without knowing what I was doing, I was combatting the depression that accompanies withdrawal while helping my lungs to heal.

After the worst was over, I began having vivid dreams about smoking. In these dreams, I would light a cigarette, telling myself I could have one occasionally. Then I would light another and another, and I would see that both of my hands held a full pack of cigarettes. I awoke from these dreams depressed and confused. Had I really quit. Or had I lied to myself all along? I still occasionally have that dream - a reminder to myself that, despite 31 years' abstinence, I am still a smoker.

If you've tried to quit and can't, try again. Remember, nobody does it the first time. You're battling true addiction. It isn't easy, but you can do it 10 minutes at a time.